


It's a puppy, Derek Hale!

by ReedMeme



Series: Adventures of Stiles and the Doctor [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AO3 1 Million, Fluff, Foreshadowing, M/M, Or Is It?, Puppy Play, Spaceships, Time Travel, puppy!Stiles, there's a buffalo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 06:30:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1216084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReedMeme/pseuds/ReedMeme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor comes back with Stiles.  Except Stiles is now a fluffy puppy.</p><p>Derek ends up puppy sitting Stiles while the Doctor goes off to get the cure.  </p><p>-</p><p>Also.  There's a spaceship.  And Derek travels through time.  It might have been a dream.  He's not sure.  But he wasn't very happy about it.  </p><p>-</p><p>Regardless, there's always running involved when the Doctor is around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's a puppy, Derek Hale!

**Author's Note:**

> I should have uploaded this during the AO3 1 million thing. But forgot. Anyway, it's late. But here it is. Not beta'd or edited. So point out mistakes on the comment section below and I'll edit it. 
> 
> Requests for an adventure in this series? I don't mind taking them. As long as it's something I can write in like 15k words or less. And you don't mind waiting. 'Cause I'm behind on a lot of other things.

     Derek had _not_ spent hours, days, and weeks thinking about that... debacle... with Stiles. The vanishing Beacon Hills populace, the giant puppy monsters, and his inappropriate reaction towards Stiles (understatement) while his memories were lost. There were far too many questions that remained during that time when he lost his mind.

 

Day 1 (and two weeks after Stiles had disappeared)

 

     "Hi, yes, no!" The Doctor exclaims, raising his hands up in surrender. "He's fine, he's alright. Just a little bit..."

     "A little bit what?" Derek snarls, teeth elongating into sharp points while his nails sharpened into claws.

     "A little bit... puppy?" The Doctor confesses before reaching into his frantically moving (and yipping) jacket to produce a... puppy.

     "What?" Derek asks dryly, staring at the puppy in deep consternation. Because not only did his wolf (somehow) recognize the puppy (for some reason lost to his human side), but it also smelled like Stiles.

   The Doctor now was struggling with clutching the frantically squirming puppy with both hands as the rotund ball of fluff in his hands yipped excitedly at Derek. "Hold still, will you?"

     The Doctor steps forward, Derek still wary but dumbfounded by the puppy in the man's hands, before shoving the squirming pup into Derek's chest. Reflexively, Derek shifts to cradle the pup in his hands who yips happily up at him while in his arms.

     "What is this?" Derek asks evenly, glowering at the floppy eared golden puppy in his arms. A puppy that was now tugging aggressively on his Henley with its tiny teeth.

     The Doctor pauses, shifting his weight from one foot to another, before speaking out in a rushed breath and a flurry of hands. "It's Stiles."

     "What's Stiles?" Derek growls, looking up at the man that was now slowly backing away.

     "Now, remember, you have a puppy in your hands. So, it's best not to be _too_ angry." The Doctor rambles as he tries to back away. "Long story short? We've just gotten back from the Dark Ages. Don't give me that look. Time traveller, remember? Or did I not say. Anyway, there was this thing in this planet with a royal family, a broken clock, a chicken, and murderous hair pieces. There _might_ have been a slight misunderstanding that resulted in an unwarranted arranged marriage to a Prince. There was some jealousy, there was a lot of running, there was a lot of explosions aaaaand now Stiles is a puppy."

     "This isn't Stiles." Derek says evenly, still refusing to believe the abridged, broken, and unbelievable tale he had just been told.

     "Well you can smell him can't you? I'm sure your wolf recognizes him." The Doctor says, his hands running through his hair.

     Derek narrows his eyes before raising the puppy up to his face (the thing yips excitedly in his hands, tail wagging madly) before burying his nose in the fluffy pup's soft, rotund, belly. The thing squirms madly, yipping hysterically, as Derek snuffles its jelly belly. Derek's face snaps back, his face frozen in wide eyed shock as the puppy stares at him with a floppy tongue sticking out and a tail still wagging excitedly.

     "I'll fix it!" The Doctor exclaims from somewhere, Derek's astonished attention still focused on the puppy in his hands. "I just need to go to this one planet, except puppies aren't allowed, you know? Long story short, they supposedly committed mass genocide on the planet's supply of gladiolas. And I wasn't about to leave him in the Tardis. So... I'll be right back and you just... take him for a walk or something."

     By the time Derek had turned his attention back to the Doctor, the man was gone, leaving a happy puppy in his wake.

     What a horrible man.

 

Still Day 1

 

     "That's not him." Scott exclaims.

     "It's him." Derek huffs out while suffering through a staring contest with a confused puppy. It tilts his head at him when he huffed out a breathe. It copies him by sneezing.

     "Not it's not." Scott insists.

     "Yes it is." Derek says through gritted teeth. "Smell him."

     "I can smell him from here. Stiles touched him. So?" Scott asks with furrowed brows.

     " _No_. _Smell_ him." Derek insists wearily and watches as Scott sighs before bending over to pick up the puppy and bury his face in the pup's belly just as Derek had done before. The puppy squirms happily, yipping madly at the air.

     Scott startles back, his eyes round with shock.

     "Holy crap." Scott exclaims as the puppy barks at him, his tail wagging happily. It tries to stretch forward towards Scott's face. Scott obliges him, holding the puppy closer to his face to allow the ball of fluff to lick his face excitedly. "Hey buddy. Guess what? You're a puppy!"

     Derek watches the scene before him with increasing distress, his hands tightening on his jeans. He huffs out another frustrated breathe before stepping forward to collect the squirming puppy from Scott's hands, effectively ending the pup's efforts to bathe Scott's face with its small, soft, tongue.

     "Hey!" Scott says offended but quickly backs off (due more to surprise than anything else) when Derek growls at him. "Whoa, okay, dude, what?"

 

Day 2

    

     After a particularly lively discussion, Scott convinces Derek to confess everything to the Sheriff. The man had barely slept or eaten since his son had vanished two weeks ago. Three days after Stiles first disappeared those weeks ago, Derek and Scott had revealed their nature as well as the supernatural world to the older man in an effort to provide the Sheriff a whole new perspective on what might have happened to his son.

     Needless to say, he had not taken that very well. Derek supposes that any father who found out his son, and only remaining family, had repeatedly put his life in danger for supernatural causes would not be happy. At all. So Derek's expectations about what would occur was pessimistic, at best.

     "A puppy!" The Sheriff bellowed (or shrieks - the man's pitch going fairly high considering his usually low voice, making Derek flinch at the sound and the puppy to whine in his hands.

     "A puppy." Scott says with a wince.

     "That puppy!" Another exclamation. A mixture of shock and incredulity on the Sheriff's face.

     "A cute... puppy?" Scott says through another wince, running a hand through his hair from the rising stress. "But he's fine? You know?"

     Derek thinks that those should not have been statements, and not questions. He doesn't think that would help a father alleviate any concerns over his son.

     "No I don't know, Scott. You just told me my son is a puppy!" The older man yelled, making Scott whine in distress. "This is _not_ fine. None of this is fine. My child disappeared for two weeks and now you're telling me he came back as a canine!"

     The scene of it actually impressed Derek. As young as Scott was (as a Werewolf, that is), he expected the distress pouring off the Sheriff to rattle the young Were's control. Unusually, he not only kept relatively calm (as in - does not wolf out -), but actually deferred to the older man's recriminations.

     When the older man started turning a sharp shade of puce and his heart started beating faster (faster than would be healthy for an older human male for his age - Derek observes), the puppy in his hands starts whining out loud; little high pitched cries that evolved into distressed howling while squirming in Derek's hands.

     The sound snaps the Sheriff's attention to the pup in Derek's hands and the older man quickly moves forward, reaching for the dog. Derek sighs heavily before handing the Stiles over to his father, the latter gingerly cradling the small, fluffy, thing in his arms.

     "He's alright. He's just responding to your distress." Derek says quietly, his eyes continually trained on Stiles' small form.

     The Sheriff sighs heavily while petting the small thing in his arms. Puppy!Stiles frantically licks any piece of skin he could reach, his small tail wagging furiously.

     "I'm alright buddy. I'm sorry I freaked you out. It's alright. It's going to be fine." The Sheriff murmured, lifting Stiles close to his face and giving him a kiss at the top of his fluffy head. Stiles' lets out a small bark in reply before attempting to lick his father's face. The Sheriff trains them a look so severe that it reminded Derek of his own father. Suddenly he felt like a child again. The Sheriff's tone was equally severe. "It _is_ going to be fine. _Right_?"

     It was clear to Derek that it was less of a question and more of a statement.

     Scott nods his head frantically, while Derek does his best to just nod once. Resisting the suddenly pre-pubescent urge that overwhelmed him.

     Stiles yips happily, drawing the Sheriff's attention back to his canine son.

     "It's going to be okay buddy." He says softly, while petting his son's soft fur. "I'll keep you safe until you're back to normal. I won't let you out of my sight."

     Derek might have growled. He's pretty sure the Sheriff didn't hear (far too busy cooing at his apparently adorable puppy son). Derek doesn't know where the growl came from. But it didn't sit well with him that Stiles would be staying with his father. It wouldn't make sense. Not logical. That's all.

     But Scott gave him a look of surprise that Derek tries his best to ignore.

     Derek tries talking instead. But not before wondering why he had to work so _hard_. "Sheriff? I don't think that's a good idea."

     The Sheriff levelled him a look so severe that Derek once again had a brief flash of childhood recriminations from his own parents. Derek _knew_ not to harass the neighbourhood cats. But damn him if it wasn't funny whenever he managed to chase them up a tree. And the neighbours never saw him. So what's the big deal.

     Responsibility. Right. That was it. Like now.

     "With all due respect," Derek begins, trying a hand at charm. He knew he was never good at it. That was always Peter's thing. But hey, this wasn't the moment to resort to what _he_ wanted to do, "but I don't think you have the time to look after him."

     "You don't think I can look after my _son_?" The Sheriff says dryly.

     "Not at all!" Derek says hastily, all too aware that Scott was watching him with equal parts amusement and astonishment. That jerk. "But you _are_ a Sheriff. A profession that eats up a considerable amount of your time. And right now, your son is a dog. A puppy nonetheless. They take up a considerable amount of care and time, under normal circumstances. When you take into account that this puppy is Stiles..."

     Derek left the last part hanging, knowing that both Scott and the Sheriff could follow his train of thought. Going by the awkward shifting of both their weights, he knew he was right.

     And he was already exhausted. Too much talking. Quite frankly he just wanted to take Stiles and leave. But that's probably not a good thing. Derek was fairly certain.

     "I can take care of him!" Scott offers, to Derek's frustration. Frustration that he stamps down as quickly and as quietly as he can. But Scott startles when he turns to look at Derek's face. So Derek supposes he wasn't that successful.

     "You're a _student_ , Scott." Derek reminds him calmly. Tries not to make a fist with his hands. "You spend the majority of the morning and afternoon at school, five days a week. Not to mention you work part time. _When_ would you have time to take care of him?"

     "You're thinking this will last a long time?" The Sheriff asks calmly. Too calm for Derek's comfort. He's smart enough to read the undertones in the Sheriff's question. Not pleasant ones. Murderously paternal ones. Derek was suddenly quite aware that the Sheriff carried a gun on his person. Not enough to kill a Were. But damn did it still hurt like hell. Especially if he aims for the squishy parts. Like the eyes. Or Derek's nuts.

     Opening his hands, arms wide, placating, Derek tries to look concerned yet responsible at the same time. If responsible was a look. He had seen Peter do it. Hopefully he was doing it right. "To be honest, I don't think the Doctor's frame of time is the same as ours. So I wouldn't hold my breathe."

     "So you don't think he's gonna help my son at all?" The Sheriff asks, anger starting to bubble again in his words. Stiles starts to whine again in his hands. Probably hearing the man's escalating heartbeat.

     "I didn't say that. I think the Doctor _will_ help him. _Is_ helping him. I talked with those UNIT guys after that... incident..." Derek says, not really needing to go into much detail considering everyone in the room knew of the incident. Astonishingly, the Sheriff didn't know until they filled him in. Thought he just slept through a whole day. Convenient. "And from what I understand, the Doctor does his best for his companions. I'm sure he'll follow through. But in the meantime, Stiles is going to need the same amount of care and attention that you would give a new pup. A new pup that probably has ADHD."

     "Are you volunteering?" The Sheriff asks with a raised brow.

     Derek squares his shoulders before nodding tersely. Doesn't quite know why he did that though. But it suddenly felt important to gain the man's trust. "I'll protect him with my life."

     Aaaand Derek doesn't know where that came from.

     Scott doesn't know either. The guy actually snorts and, by the looks of it, represses a laugh.

     Well screw him. Derek thought it was impressive.

     The Sheriff gives him a long, scrutinizing, look that made Derek's skin itch, wanting to break his rather stiff form. It was so long people might think they were having a staring contest.

     "Fine." The Sheriff huff's out to Derek's relief (and surprise - 'cause, really. You know? Wow.). The man nuzzles his son one more time (a little kiss on his fluffy head here, a little kiss on his fluffy head there, maybe a bit of a quick fuzzy belly rub), before handing him over to Derek. "You take care of him. But I swear to God, Derek, if you don't give me back me back my son in one piece, I will hunt you down and shove a glass full of mountain ash down your throat. I've been talking with Chris Argent. So I'd know what I'd be doing."

     Derek nods stiffly, taking care not to pay too much attention to the squirming and happy (fuzzy) puppy in his hands (Although to an outsider - see Scott - it probably looked like Derek was trying to shield the puppy in his large hands from the outside world. A Were could probably sense the enormous relief the moment the puppy touched his skin. Could smell the... not going there.).

     Derek went shopping that afternoon.

     He got fancy, expensive, brand dog food, toys, and treats. A fluffy, red, doggy bed. Some doggy puppy pens that would provide a puppy proof area in his apartment. A doggy collar with a small golden bone on it.

     And a stuffed buffalo that he (in his mind only) named Richard.

     Expensive, red, fluffy, doggy bed went unused that night. After falling asleep while watching TV, Stiles falls asleep in Derek's arms.

 

 

Day 3

 

     The Doctor makes an appearance a little after noon.

     Bright flashes of light and the sound of thunder reverberating throughout the room. Made Derek flinch and wolf out, pulling a howling Stiles closer to him from where the pup sat on the kitchen counter. The man wobbles in the middle of the kitchen, his jacket smoking, a bit of soot on his face.

     "Right, sorry. Would have used the door, but, you know, didn't." The Doctor says as he staggers into the room. As if the flash of light had flung him into his kitchen. "I don't usually do that. Don't trust the things. Not really. But didn't have much a choice. Just checking in."

     "Checking in? You can't fix this yet?" Derek chooses to say instead. A wide variety of scenarios flashed through his mind while the Doctor had rambled on. Most of them involved tearing the man's throat out with his teeth. The rest were just snark. What does it say about him now that he chose to prioritize Stiles' condition over his own desires. It's not something he's going to think much about.

     "No, not yet, _but_ ," The Doctor prattles on, a finger pointed up in the air while the other hand frantically searches for something in his brown coat. "I've got something that he should use."

     The Doctor pulls out a toy bone. A squeaky toy bone by the sound it makes when Stiles starts chewing on it after it's offered it to him. Stiles seems happy while Derek seems nonplussed.

     "A cure would have been better." Derek points out, now losing his patience while Stiles wrestles with the toy bone on the kitchen counter. Considering how Stiles somehow ends up on his back with the toy on top of him, Derek reckons the squeaky toy's winning.  

     "Right. It's kind of important. Long story short, he'll explode if he doesn't chew it at least once a day." The Doctor quickly explains before he starts fiddling on something on his left wrist.

     "What?" Derek exclaims loudly, suddenly filled with the astonishing image of an exploding puppy. "What do you mean he'll explode!?"

     "Don't have much time. Just make sure he chews on that at least once a day until I get back with the cure. And voila! No exploding puppy!" The Doctor says happily while twiddling his fingers in the air and waving.

     "Doctor!" Derek screams at the air as the Doctor vanishes in another flash of light and the booming sound of thunder.

     Derek huffs out a frustrated breathe before watching Stiles wrestle with the toy bone (the thing making the occasional squeaking noise whenever Stiles bites down on it). Derek's eye twitches.  

     He uses his hands to make sure Stiles doesn't toy-bone-wrestle his way off the counter.

     They go to the park later that afternoon. Stiles goes for a run while Derek play-chases after him. Derek laughs, not that he'll ever admit it, whenever Stiles trips and flops onto his face. But Stiles doesn't whine, just barks happily after getting back up again and running away from Derek (occasionally looking back to make sure Derek was chasing after him).

     Stiles is having the time of his life and seemingly has an encounter with a fascinating daisy that he spends ten minutes sniffing and growling at, his head to the ground and his back arched to pounce.  

     Stiles is then fed and groomed. No, Derek doesn't wolf and starts licking him (not that the thought hasn't occurred to him). He uses a soft brush he bought at the pet store. Stiles sits perfectly still during the entire thing. Derek found it relaxing.

     Stiles falls asleep on top of an exhausted Derek's face. His soft fluffy belly spread on top of Derek's eyes. Derek didn't feel anything except the soft fur and warmth that lulled him into a deeper sleep.

     But he didn't mind. Stiles didn't smell like puppy.

     He smelled like Stiles.   

 

Day 6

 

     It's been days since the Doctor made his last appearance. Derek would be edgy if not for the fact that a part of him is enjoying having Stiles so close. The reset (and majority) of him is enormously distressed at the fact that Stiles is still a puppy. As it turns out, Stiles is just as chatty and twitchy as a puppy as he was a human. Derek swears Stiles was trying to sing/bark a Katy Perry song. The howling parts seemed familiar anyway. Not that Derek listens to Katy Perry. He might have heard while at the mall.

     The Sheriff comes over every day to see his son. It was an unforeseeable (but he really should have foreseen) consequence of having Stiles at his home. The older man was over so much that his musk had started saturating his apartment. Derek doesn't think about the fact that he's stopped being bothered by it after the first day. Stiles is happy enough to see his father. For some reason, Stiles likes to struggle in the older man's arms and tries to climb into his shirt. More than once, Stiles ends up crawling through the neck of his father's shirts (and the Sheriff's frantic hands) to curl up in his dad's belly.

     Derek doesn't think about the fact that he wants Stiles against his belly too.

     Of course not.

     The Sheriff fills him in on things he's found out about the Doctor and everything that's been associated with him. Not that there's much to find. Well, anything credible anyways. Internet forums and articles about the mysterious man that's been connected to a host of astonishing and unbelievable events all over the world. Events that make things that happen in Beacon Hills looking like child's play. Some of them just sound ridiculous.

     Walking fat? Flying saucers crashing into cities? A moving star made out of webs? And an odd viral easter egg hidden in movies of the Doctor having a seemingly one sided conversation with someone (or something) unseen.

     The Sheriff has tried contacting the military men that came into town after the vanishing fiasco, but he got nothing out of him. But unusually, the Sheriff gathers that they knew (without saying or confirming it) that his son had been with the Doctor and was now a puppy. But still, no help.

     Stiles had taken a liking to chewing on a pair of Derek's favourite boots. And the puppy marks _everything_.

     One day Derek comes home from a quick run to the store to an apartment that smells like _mine!mine!mine!mine!_.   Not Derek's. Stiles. He marked/peed on so, so, many things. Derek growled at Stiles, his eyes glowing, but the puppy just looks up at him with his tongue lolling out and his head tilted curiously. His tail is wagging furiously. Stiles smells happy too. Or smug. Derek just huffs out a breathe of frustration and feeds the guy. Pup. Whatever.

     But today Scott wanted to take Stiles for a walk and 'bro-time'. Whatever that means. Derek (reluctantly) agrees. He really had things he needed to do that would require him being away for at least a couple of hours. Without a puppy in his hands. So he lectures Scott on everything he needs to do and trusts the guy to feed Stiles. And play with him. To not forgot his favourite toys. Going on and on until Scott gets fed up and assures Derek that he knows how to take care of his best friend. Not to mention the fact that he works at a Vet's clinic. Derek reluctantly hands over Stiles to Scott.

     Stiles struggles in Scott's arms, his little paws scrambling for Derek. Stiles actually whines and Derek hesitates at the sound for a minute before Scott rolls his eyes and walks out the door.

     Derek doesn't want to run after the guy and take Stiles from his hands and never let him go. No he doesn't. Of course not.

     He spends the day doing what he needs to do even if there's this odd nagging feeling at the back of his head. Like something forgotten. Something important. Something Stiles.

     His errands take more than a couple of hours. Three times longer in fact. It's dark by the time he makes his way home. The moment he steps through the doors of his apartment, Derek steps on something that squeaks. He startles for a moment, looking down at the toy. Chew toy.

     Chew toy.

     Stiles' chew toy.

     That he needs to chew or...

     HE EXPLODES!

     Derek picks it up, wolfs out, and scrambles out of the door as fast as he can towards Scott's house. He doesn't care who sees him like this. Not that anyone can see him long enough to understand what they saw. He's running faster than he's ever done before. Mainly because he can't remember if Stiles had used the chew toy at all this morning before he handed him over to Scott. Derek growls at how stupid he is. By the time he reaches the McCall house, he can already sense distress in the house. He can hear Scott's panicking cries, and a puppy's loud panicked whimper. Derek breaks down the damn door.

     Scott is surprised at the wolf-man that barges in to his home. He shouldn't be. He should have paid more attention. But most of his attention is held by a vibrating puppy on his floor.

     Scott is panicking. "Derek! What's happening. What's happening to Stiles?"

     Derek's heart sputters in dread, and rushes forward and scrambles to the ground to offer Stiles the chew toy. But Stiles doesn't take it in his mouth and just whimpers out loud while he vibrates violently.

     Derek is begging.

     He's pleading.

     His palms are sweating, his heart is a quake in his chest and thunder in his ears. He tries to take the vibrating and weeping puppy in his hands, calling out his name with a breathless whimper.

     He doesn't like Stiles crying. Panicking. Being afraid.

     He doesn't want Stiles to die. Not like this.

     Not like this.

     Derek whines.

     Stiles explodes.

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

..

 

.

 

     In an explosion of fluff.

     Just... fluff.

     Derek is on his knees, eyes wide, body frozen in surprise, his now clawed hand still clutching on to the chew toy (astonishing not punctured). Scott is quiet beside him.

     Everything and everyone is covered in fluff. Fur. Light brown (almost golden), like Puppy!Stiles' puppy coat.

     But no guts (thankfully), bone (really, thankfully), or puppy skin (Dear God Thank You!).

     Just a naked puppy (no fur, just skin - all wrinkly and... pink) in front of them that sneezes once before looking up at Derek and tilts its head curiously. His tail his wagging.

     Derek falls back on his haunches, still wide eyed from the explosion of fur he had just witnessed.

     Stiles climbs on to his lap, tail still wagging happily, and barks once, his tongue lolling on one side.

     "What the hell?" Scott asks for the both of them. 'Cause Derek can't really talk. He has puppy fluff up his nose and in his hair.

       He was going to kill that damn Doctor.

 

Day 7

 

     Derek nor Scott inform the Sheriff of the exploding-puppy-fluff event. Even if they did, they really didn't quite know what to say. Or confess that their absent mindedness almost resulted in his Puppy!Son exploding. Scott insists he wasn't told about the chew toy. Derek insists he told Scott. Both are just relieved that all that happened resulted from it was a naked Puppy!Stiles.

     Derek was quick to buy dog clothes for Stiles to wear, while spending more time holding him against his body to keep him warm.

     When the Sheriff _did_ show up for his daily visits, to say he was astonished by the fact that his son was now hairless would be an understatement. He stood staring at his hairless puppy son for a long moment, a confused look on his face. Just... staring. Derek could practically see the cogs in the Sheriff's brain working overtime to figure out the apparent mystery of the hairless puppy. Several times he opens his mouth to speak, but ends up saying nothing at all. Just tilting his head in confusion before lapsing into relative silence once more. Derek was enormously relieved when the Sheriff just sighed heavily, shook his head, and proceeded to just cuddle his son and watch TV in Derek's apartment; apparently dropping the curious matter of the vanishing fur.

   It had been a week since Stiles had returned as a puppy. Days since Derek last saw the Doctor. Seemingly a life time of Stiles sleeping on his face. A lifetime of not minding. Stiles has a soft belly after all. Who would mind that? Derek wouldn't admit it out loud though. But a week into Puppy!Stiles and Derek had developed a routine. A development that occurred quite quickly one supposes. But Derek figures this was one of those situations that necessitated a quick adaptation to astonishing circumstances. Besides, it wasn't much trouble to take care of Stil- er... a puppy.

     It _was_ a lot of trouble waking up one day in an unfamiliar place.

     It was Stiles distressed noises that woke him up this time, the puppy clawing at a metal door at the far end of the room. Which was odd considering Derek's apartment looked nothing like that metal door. Or nothing like the dark grey metal walls that surrounded them. His room had no flashing lights and screens that displayed unusual things. His apartment especially did not have a window to the stars.

     But he still had his memory. For the most part. So that counts as positive. He still has no memory of how he ended up somewhere else... again... with Stiles. Derek would have felt panicked or startled if not for the fact that (unusually enough for him), he just felt resigned.

     Because what else could it be? His life may have been fairly unusual in the past considering his kind and the world he lived. But he innately understood that the Doctor's life must be a thousand times more complicated than anything he has in his life. So with a sigh, Derek forces himself up and trudges up to Stiles to pick up the puppy and bring him closer to his chest. Derek makes soft soothing noises at the distress pup, and even an unconscious kiss to the top of his shaking head, while studying the room about him.

     The lone, long, rectangular window in the room showed the Earth below them, the side shrouded by the shadow of the moon, and the stars around them. Derek takes a moment to drink in the sight. Even with the increasingly nagging concern bubbling up in his chest, he knew that what lay before him was a rare sight for his kind. The violent kind. The lonely kind. No dreams. No life. Just living. Takes a moment to relish in the fact that he's witness to something so few down there, in the dark, have ever seen. It was a sight more than anything he had ever dreamed. Even back when he used to dream, that time... so long ago.

     Stiles laps softly at his throat, his tail wagging rapidly in Derek's arms. It brings him out of his reverie and he turns away from the window and towards the door. Which was not locked. Which lead to empty hallways (with more technology that he could not fathom the complexity of) and empty rooms except for buzzing sounds and humming noises that came from technology. The space smelled clean, for the most part, and vaguely of benzene and the musty scent of aged books. The ship looked new (albeit Derek wouldn't be an expert of such things seeing as this is something he's never encountered before) but seemed empty. Silent.

     So encountering a thin man frantically running around pulling switches, levers, and pushing buttons at a great number of consoles in one of the rooms was a break from his rising expectations.

     "Doctor? What are you doing?" He asks evenly, repressing the bubbling selection of threats his mind races through. The Doctor has a slim neck, enough to tear out his throat with one clawed hand. Or by a set of teeth clamped down on his jugular before tearing flesh from bone. The wolf wants it. Recognizes the man is dangerous. Also perfectly aware it needs the man for Stiles.

     Throat tearing can be later. When there's no puppy Stiles and no space ships.

     The Doctor is looking at him oddly. He might have asked a question. Derek just tilts his head in response, clutching a now squirming puppy tighter against his chest.

     "What're you doing here?" The Doctor repeats, his brows scrunched up in confusion. He's wearing a dark blue suit. It's tight and conforms to his body. Derek thinks it makes him look like a blue praying mantis.

     "Woke up here." Derek responds with simplicity, his eyes flicking around the room and to the Doctor. He finds it odd that the Doctor doesn't smell like anything and everything. Everything is what he's been in contact with (things he recognizes and things he doesn't). Nothing is his own body's smell. There's nothing there, or at least nothing he recognizes. Derek doesn't find this fact comforting. Stiles makes a distressed noise, likely sensing Derek's own unease.

     The Doctor wasn't human, that much he knew. He could tell. The Doctor was something more. Something not quite right. He recognizes a little bit of brief things that flashes through the Doctor's eyes. He's seen it before. In enemies, soldiers, in the mirror, in his uncle's eyes. But it's brief and crinkles at the corners when the man narrows his eyes at Derek. It vanishes quickly in unimaginable depth behind deep brown irises. It's almost as disconcerting as the sound of two beating hearts. Like the sound of drummer boys marching to war.

     Derek barely catches the next question.

   "How that happen?" The Doctor asks. Derek understands the weight of his words. He didn't need to nod towards Stiles' naked (sans fur) body as well.

     "Don't know how we ended up here. Woke up in a room back there." Derek explains calmer than he expects of himself. He's already stepped into the room to look around, slowly, with carefully measured steps. Not once ever exposing his back to the thin man in the blue suit.

     "And why is Stiles naked?" The Doctor asks, his voice pitching high. His hands are in his hips. It should be comical, but Derek doesn't laugh.

     "You said he'd explode." Derek accuses with measure severity. Measured mainly because he can't fully blame the man for what occurred. Sure it would have been nice to know the 'explosion' wouldn't be literal, but it was still his responsibility to make sure it didn't happen. He promised the Sheriff. He promised himself. Even if the man before him created these unusual circumstances.

     "And?" The Doctor makes twisting motions with a hand. He wants more, but Derek doesn't particularly know what else to give him.

     "He exploded." Derek says simply instead.

     "No he didn't." The Doctor insists now, his eyes crinkled in disbelief. His voice is pitching higher at his apparent frustration with Derek. "Otherwise you'd be cradling a puddle of goo."

     "His _fur_ exploded. He just lost his hair." Derek grits out through his teeth. "It was everywhere. I thought you actually meant he'd explode."

     The Doctor startles for a minute, his eyes moving from the puppy in his arms to Derek's increasingly frustrated face.

     "I did." The Doctor confesses.

     Derek's voice is sharp, his muscles tensing at the revelation. "What?"

     That damned buzzing stick is pulled out, glowing blue and thrumming. Derek does his best to not leap forward to slash the thing out of the Doctor's hands with his claws. It's pointed at Stiles briefly before the Doctor pulls it back to study it close to his face.

     "He didn't explode." It was a statement, the Doctor wasn't asking, but Derek just nods tersely, still trying to convince himself that it would be best not to drive a clawed hand into the skinny man's chest. "He should have exploded. But he didn't."

     "Where have you been?" Derek snaps, his patience stretched at its limits. "What the hell have you been doing? You turn Stiles into a puppy, telling me that he'll explode, and then you're gone for days!"

     The Doctor looks offended at his words, his head reared back, his face scrunched up, in indignation. "I could have been back earlier if it weren't for this thing floating around."

     "What?" Derek was getting tired of not knowing, not understanding, of being lost. The Doctor made him feel like a child.

     "The Tardis took me here, of all places. I was on my way back, with the cure and all that. Sonic treatment. Recalibrate the body's original form through appropriate frequency vibrations. The correct frequency has been transferred to the Tardis." The Doctor explains as if it were the most natural thing to do. As if Derek understood what he said. Derek doesn't bother nodding. Mainly because he _doesn't_ understand. "But landed here, instead."

     "A space library." Derek pipes up, confident in his assessment. He'd take the chance. He's well aware that chances to know something _before_ being told by the Doctor might be far and few in between.

     The Doctor smiles at him. "Smelled it did you?"

     Derek just nods, his hands absentmindedly stroking a Stiles that's gnawing on the fabric of his Henley. "New, old, other things. But books. The human kind. In this ship that doesn't look anything like what humans would have."

     The Doctor is still smiling. "It's not supposed to be here. Wrong century. A travelling repository of knowledge by the Cartasians." At the look of confusion on Derek's face, the Doctor expands in his explanation. "Just what a colony of humans started calling themselves after setting a new planet after New Earth. I wonder if they're related to the celebrities."

     "There's a space library from the future orbiting Earth?" Derek sounds it out loud. It sounds absurd. Unbelievable. Impossible, if it weren't for the fact that the evidence is all around him.

     The Doctor nods. "It's like a mobile library, really. For the purists. Don't think much of digital recordings. Prefer the feeling of pages on their fingers. It has over a billion books in its halls. A bit of a small selection really, but good choices between new colonies. Novels, magazines, fan fiction, the selection's quite extensive for something so small. But ships like these don't usually have the capacity for time travel."

     "There's no one here." Derek points out the obvious. There were no human smells or sounds. Or anything that he recognizes anyways. But he was confident enough in his assessment, and by the look of the Doctor nodding, he was right. "For a long time."

     "Thirty years, from what I've found." The Doctor nods at a console with flashing lights. "But it didn't fly here. It's destination was a planet that... well... hasn't even been created yet at this time. Not to mention it's on the other side of the galaxy. No one sent it either. It's just... here."

   "Like that ship." Derek recalls, his eyes narrowing in consternation. He remembers that time. Things exploded. Not the fur kind of explosion.

     "In that library." The Doctor voices appraisingly. But he just draws back, takes a breathe, and looks at Derek with a smile. "But two's hardly a pattern."

     "Is this ship going to explode?" Derek blurts out, clear concern in his voice. Stiles yips happily, his tongue lolling on the side. "That's not a good thing Stiles."

     "He likes the running." The Doctor says with a toothy smile. "But no. Of course not. No explosions. Just a ship in orbit that drew my ship and is not at all exploding."

     "No?" Derek had to ask.

     "Not at all." The Doctor assures him.

     That's when the lights dimmed to a deep scarlet red, the klaxons began to blare, and the ship quaked heavily. Derek hardly kept himself on his feet, his arms securing Stiles tighter against his body.

     "You said _no explosions_!" Derek seethes, his eyes glowing blue, his throat pitching to a growl.

     "It wasn't supposed to!" The Doctor assures him, his eyes wide at the red shaking room.

     "Then why does it sound and feel like something's exploding?" Derek practically roars. He had too. Now they were fighting against deafening noise. He tightens his arms around the puppy as Stiles struggles against his chest. "Calm down Stiles!"

     The ship feels like it's pitching to the right, causing Derek to lose his balance and fall to his side. He pivots his body to make sure he doesn't fall on top of Stiles. Across from him, he sees the Doctor on the floor, struggling to scramble up to his feet by grabbing hold of a computer console. The man's studying the console screen with an inscrutable but intense look on his face.

     "This isn't right. This isn't right at all. Why is it exploding? It's a mobile library!" The Doctor yells. You can't really do anything but yell considering the loud noise. But Derek would have taken the klaxon over the sound of metal tearing any day of the week. A sound that now reverberated through the room. It was sharp and grating in his ears. The sound of a ship falling to pieces.

     "Doctor, I can hear the ship being torn apart!" Derek yells above the din, his features now completely warped by his beta form. He's trying his best not to impale the puppy in his arms with his lengthened claws while keeping himself upright against the shaking ship.

     "But it doesn't make any sense! None of these readings make any sense!" The Doctor exclaims, his eyes wide and disbelieving at the console before him. "This shouldn't even be here!"

     A loud explosion sweeps them off their feet, Derek's arms splaying out reflexively against he fall. It takes him less than half a second to regret that action (even if it was beyond his -relative- control) as Stiles hurtles out of his arms.

     "Stiles!" He calls out as he watches the puppy stagger to its feet and shoot off out the room and down the hall where they had come from. "No! Stiles!"

     Derek is quick to scramble to his feet and after the running pup, ignoring the chaotic din and his name sounding in his ears.

     He would never leave Stiles in a sinking ship.

     He made a promise.

     He's rushing down broken halls, barely catching sight of the puppy despite his wolf vision. Electricity and sparks shoot off every corner and corridor, smoke rising out of broken seams, sound assaulting his sensitive ears.

     "Stiles!" He can barely hear himself scream.

     He sees the puppy running into an open room. An open space. There were no books here. But there was fire. And exposed wires with live currents. And smoke. And light.

     In the middle of the room was a platform with curious symbols that changed its patterns rapidly from one unknown figure to the next. The very same platform that Stiles was running towards. Derek races after him, mustering as much of his enhanced abilities as he could before the puppy could reach its apparent destination. He fails. Stiles vanishes the moment he reaches the platform and Derek doesn't even spare a moment to think about following him. There was never a question.

 

Day ??

 

     Derek startles awake in frantic gasps and jerky, stiff, limbs that flail about. His mind teeters just on the other side of oblivion, his vision swimming and his senses dumbed down to a bare minimum. There are shapes and light and tiny movements, like speckled dust floating in the breeze. He tries to control his rapidly beating heart, try to calm the lungs that are frantically gasping for air. It takes a few, tense, and long, moments before his sight settles enough for him to see beyond blurred shapes and colours. There was nothing around him but calm trees with leaves that danced in the gently blowing wind. He tries to call Stiles' name, but his throat tightens and fails to utter one syllable. It takes a few moments for him to move to his feet, his body unusually stiff yet lacking any pain that would usually accompany this level of rigidity.

     He finds himself at the edge of a wooded enclosure, at the edge overlooking a familiar looking plot of empty land. He staggers forward before something stumbles into him.

     "Hey! Watch where you're going mister!" A tiny voice calls out. Shrill. High. Frustrated. Unfamiliar. It came with a small body with clipped black hair (pink with stars and hearts) and a cherry red dress.  

     But the scent of the voice was known to him. Intimately so. It bore a name, a title, that he had long locked away in his heart. So long ago now. Ever since the fire took it away.

     But it was a child before him, looking up at him with irate eyes. Her hands are on her hips and her cherry lips are set in a pout. She's furrowing thick brows that seem all too familiar, and her stance is rigid and angry. Derek can't do anything but stare, his heart never achieving the calm that he had tried when he woke.

     "You're not supposed to be here." She says haughtily, her finger pointed at his face as if she were lecturing an unruly child. It was so familiar and foreign all at once. It was the right expression but in the wrong face. Too young. Like the voice. But the scent was the same, if not smoother, more vibrant. It held the scent of youth and vitality that fade with time and age to a gentler musk until it is overtaken by the deep, thick, scent of death. But there she was, pointing her finger, huffy and angry and breaking his heart. "This is _private_ property. My dad is going to be _so_ mad at you."

     The thundering in his ears? In the back of his mind, Derek wonders if that was the sound of his heart breaking.

     Then something is pulling him back. It is a heavy gravity with the sound and the light similar to what was in the ship. The girl (his mother - it was his _mother_ ), tilts her head oddly, the angry line of her lips making way to a wide 'o' of wonderment. Derek doesn't have time to consider the expression before he's pulled back. Or forward? Derek doesn't know, he just falls.

Day(s) ???

 

     It is night here. Wherever this is. Derek doesn't know how long he's been out. He doesn't understand what's happening. He's far too confused, surprised, and overwhelmed with meeting his child-mother (in the past? It must have been...) that he doesn't quite know what to feel. Quite frankly he'd be perfectly content to lie wherever he was and take stock of what he had just experienced. The night is clear, the moon is bright, and the stars are out.

     Did he die in that foreign ship so far above the world?

     Was he in heaven, paradise, the nirvana that came after death and met his mother? Was that really his mother? His wolf thought so. It believed so. Derek doesn't know what to believe.

     If this was death, or the afterlife, then what came after? There _was_ the light. Was that it? Was there orientation? A briefing? Someone to take stock of all his sins and all the ways he'd failed at being a man?

     A soft presence was nearby, he can hear the heartbeat. It's calm, its scent is familiar, its... aura, is non-threatening. So Derek doesn't move. Not particularly because he doesn't want to, or that he can't. More that... he didn't know what else to do. The presence is beside him and the image of the body moves into his vision.

     It's Stiles. Older, but not by much. Or perhaps by a lot. He's not sure. There are more creases on his face, small, soft, thin lines that came from years of aging. Of life. But not by much. Or too much. Depends on your point of view. It's smiling down at him, this thing that bore Stiles' face. It seems kindly and fond. It's too close. But Derek doesn't move. It presses a soft kiss on Derek's lips. Gentle. Dry. Achingly comfortable. Like fitting the last piece of a jigsaw in a grand design.

     "Hey there Sourwolf. I found you." Stiles smiles down at him. "Whatcha lyin' here for? They're waiting for you. Do you wanna go back? Or you thinking about being a spaceman?"

     It's Stiles. It _was_ his mother. The question has him hitching his breathe until it becomes gasps and the kindly face above him degenerate into one of worry. Tears are threatening to spill from his eyes, the traitors. He becomes angry with himself, at his body. The betrayal of it. Not in front of anyone. _Never_ in front of anyone. Not in front of him.

     But it was a question that he'd asked himself every morning since the night he lost so much. He wishes he could and now wonders if this was it. Maybe he _did_ die in that ship. It would not trouble him. There are far worse ways than dying in the stars.

     But then he's getting pulled again. There's that light again. The heaviness, the invisible gravity that pulls him down, up, and everywhere else.

     This time it takes him to a roof. He's not lying down or waking from unconsciousness. He leaves the light mid run, jumping from one solid footing to another. Then he's shot and a piercing pain flashes through his body. It's a familiar pain. This is a familiar place. He's been shot like this before.

     The light and the heaviness come back. He's no longer in pain. But he's sinking. He's drowning. There's water everywhere and he's sinking to the bottom. It takes everything he has _not_ to gasp out in surprise. But then arms pull him back up. This was familiar too. The one holding him up was familiar too.  

     The light again. The heaviness again.

     There's people this time. His senses are adapting quickly to the jumps, becoming easier for him to regain them every time it happens. He seems them around him. He doesn't have time to panic. Doesn't feel like he should. There's no gun fire, or drowning, or dead family in young, living bodies. There's people he know. Well dressed and in a gentle white. White suits. White ties. White shoes.

     "I may sound like a broken record, but I still say you're too damn young for this." The Sheriff grumbles into his drink ( a wine glass with *sniff* white wine). "It's practically cradle robbing."

     "Dad, I'm twenty six!" Stiles says behind him, causing Derek to jerk back. Stiles hair is longer, almost covering his ears. It kinda fits him. It frames his face well. It sets of his bright, toothy, white smile. He's smiling at Derek. "And believe me, _this_ was a long time coming."

     "I wasn't talking about _you_." The Sheriff mumbles, but going by the look on Stiles' face, he's sure the son heard what his father had said.

     The Doctor steps into view. He's wearing white too. He's trying to pull off the white bow tie around his neck, earning a hiss of frustration from Stiles who tries to snap his hand away.

     "Clearly not." The Doctor says, tying to slap Stiles' hands away as the he tries to fix the Doctor's tie. "You may be younger, but Derek's more immature. Technically you're emotionally cradle robbing."

     Derek snarls at the man's words but Stiles merely laughs and steps towards him. Stiles pokes him on the cheeks and Derek flinches back at the touch. It's too familiar. But not entirely disconcerting. Lydia appears out of nowhere to stop the Sheriff from refilling his wine glass with a wag of her fingers.

   "Not too much. And you'll ruin your clothes." She reprimands him.  

   Stiles just rolls his eyes. "Well, what do you say Sourwolf? Ready to get hitched?"

   Stiles should sound like he's joking. At times he sounds like he always is. Derek can never tell. It's difficult to read someone's heartbeat when it's beating too fast. Like right now. Derek can't distinguish one beat and skip from the others. Stiles' heart is beating so fast that it threatens to beat out of his chest. But it calms quickly when the he reaches forward and takes Derek's hand in his. Derek doesn't know what to make of that. What to make out of this whole thing.

     "You're not getting cold feet, are you?" Stiles asks with a soft smile.

     Derek just stares at him, brain slow to catch up with the situation at hand. "I... don't understand."

   That's when the screaming sounded. Panicked yells filled the air, causing everyone within Derek's line of sight to tense and turn towards the commotion. A man in a metal suit came into their tent. He raised his arms and shot beams of light all over the room. The metal man was saying something, but Derek couldn't understand what it was. Or hear it. He couldn't hear anything. The Doctor was yelling something, his hands high up in the air... was he pleading? The Sheriff had pulled out a gun and was firing in return at the oncoming storm of metal and light. Lydia lay still on the ground. Just like Stiles in his arms. That's why there was no sound. Because all noise should come from the body in Derek's arms. But there was nothing but silence in his wide, smiling, eyes.

   Then Derek is pulled apart again, engulfed in the light. This time he welcomes it, yearns for it. He could not listen to the panicked wolf inside of him. The man he was numb, and the emptiness that overcame his mind was everything. At least until the claxon started blaring again.

 

Day 7

 

     His eyes opened at the sensation of something soft, small, and wet licking his face. A distressed high pitched sound sounding next to his ears. Eyes focusing, he sees a puppy frantically licking his face, whining out loud.

     "Derek!" The Doctor calls out, rushing into the room in a flurry of limbs. Always a flurry of flailing limbs. The Doctor helps pull him to his feet before sweeping trembling puppy in his arms. "We have to leave, _now_. This ship's about to explode."

     Derek, still disoriented and numb from the confusion of his dreams, if they were indeed dreams, just stares at the man blankly.

   "Derek!" The Doctor yells through the blaring noise, a hand on Derek's face. "Look at me. We have to leave, now!"

     It was the Stiles' whimpering that pulled Derek out of his reverie. He shakes his head to clear his mind before quickly following the Doctor out of the room. They ran through hallways of fire, smoke, and steel. Flashing lights and electrical discharges that flitter through the air, winding around them. Bulkheads and walls explode as metal and other things collapse into itself. The Doctor leads them into a hallway that tapers to a corner where a familiar blue police box stood sentry. They quickly stumble in just as the explosions behind them grew louder and louder.

     The Doctor rushes into the console at the centre of the room as Derek collapses at a set of stairs. The Doctor is prancing about in a panic, flicking switches and pulling levers that produces a wheezing, groaning noise that rocks the ship. Derek bangs his head against the metal railing but doesn't complain. He just uses his human hands to steady himself as the ship rocks back and forth before stilling with a solid 'thunk'. Behind him, he can hear the frantic dual heartbeats beating in the Doctor's chest, and the more familiar tiny beating of a frightened puppy's heart.

     "Stiles." Derek breathes before jumping to his feet.

     "He's fine." The Doctor reassures him before pulling the puppy out from within his coat.

     Stiles' tiny puppy form is whimpering and shaking with fear and Derek quickly steps forward to take Stiles in his arms, cradling the tiny form in his chest.

     "We can..." The Doctor begins but is quickly cut off by Derek's growl.

     "No." Derek seethes, his eyes glowing in anger. "No. Stay away."

     He marches out of the door without looking back with a whining Stiles in his arms.

 

Day ... Derek's already stopped counting.

 

     The Doctor comes back. If Derek knew any better, he'd figured it was an expression of remorse on the man's face. But Derek doubts it really was. He figures experiencing the man's remorse would be far more... substantial than a pouting lip and an uneasy frown.

     Calmer now than he was, but no less confused, Derek lets the man wander around his living room while Stiles wrestles a stuffed buffalo at his feet. The buffalo is winning.

     "It's still a mystery you know." The Doctor says after some time. Derek doesn't know how long, nor care, he's far too busy watching Stiles run away from a stationary stuffed buffalo. But it's Stiles. He runs back and leaps at the thing with a happy wag of his tiny tail.

     "The ship." Derek responds. It's not a question, more a statement. He's been wondering about the events he'd experienced in that ship just as much as he's tried avoiding them. He doesn't know what he wants. If he wants to understand what happened, or if he wanted to remain lost in the dark.

     "How it got there. How _you_ got there." The Doctor says quietly, the curiosity evident in his voice. "It's a strange thing. An empty ship from the future pulls _my_ ship into itself. Then you. Then it explodes. There doesn't seem to be a purpose."

     Derek doesn't say anything. Doesn't really have anything to offer.

     "Anything happen while you were racing of to fetch Stiles?" The Doctor asks calmly.  

     Derek takes a moment to think through his answer. He doesn't think the Doctor would find the moment too suspicious seeing as it would just seem like he's busy wrestling a rambunctious puppy Stiles with one hand. He's not sure if he wants to share what happened with the man. He's not sure if anything _did_ happen. Had he gone anywhere? How much time had he spent in that room? How long had he been unconscious? _Had_ he been unconscious? It was difficult to tell in a world where time travellers apparently existed. And here he had spent his life worrying about the monsters that went bump in the night.

     "No." Derek says, surprising even himself. He wonders if the Doctor would be able to see through his lie. He doesn't care. He's said it and was now committed to the lie. "Nothing really. You came running in after us shortly after."

     The Doctor makes a curious noise with his throat. Derek doesn't look, but he's sure the Doctor must be staring at him inquisitively.

     "He's still a puppy." Derek says instead, a hand motioning to a jumping Stiles (who's trying to bite it).

     "Not for long." The Doctor says with a clap of his hands. Derek notices that he tends to do that a lot. "I've flooded this room with Uronic Radiation treated with..."

     Derek doesn't care. Those words mean nothing to him. What matters to him is that puppy!Stiles is now convulsing on the ground. Derek starts panicking, his heart once more pounding in his ears. But before he can do anything, the puppy (it's head, tilted curiously, looking comical with a large stuffed buffalo in its mouth) before him explodes in a flurry of limbs and... nudity.

     Derek is eye level with Stiles' crotch. He's wide-eyed and staring at it before he has the presence of mind to look away. Or look up. He'll never admit he was blushing. Stiles, now human, still has his head tilted curiously. It reminds Derek of the puppy. Although he still had a stuffed buffalo in his mouth. It seems to take a few moments for Stiles to comprehend how tall he is. Or how naked he is. Then in true Stiles fashion, he starts flailing and stumbling around trying to hide his bare skin.

     "Oh my god!" Stiles says before he stumbles backwards over the couch.

     Stiles is back. But Derek can't help but only think that it's now all over.

     The Sheriff is called. Scott is called. The rest of the pack comes too. They tell Stiles everything about the time he spent as a puppy. Scott was quite enthusiastic about it. Tells Stiles how cute he was. Allison and Lydia had a lot of pictures. Isaac has one of Stiles in his hair.  His dad is just relieved to have his son human again. Apparently it became more difficult to push the story of Stiles spending time with relatives on another state as time went on. Stiles says he remembers nothing about his time as a puppy. Only the Werewolves can tell he lied. The extent of that lie is the question. Derek doesn't say anything and just stands back, letting the whole thing happen.

     There's appropriate threats thrown about towards the Doctor while Derek was walking away (and a lot of Stiles defending him as well). He doesn't get to hear all of them.

 

A week later

 

     Everything is more or less back to normal. More or less. The Sheriff is more paranoid about making sure Stiles is still on the planet. In this time. So is Scott. Derek hasn't talked to him since he walked away that afternoon when Stiles turned back into a human. None of them had seen the Doctor. But Derek has watched Stiles from afar. Not that he'd been stalking the teen. Just around town. Here and there. Derek passes by the school occasionally and sees the teen sitting on the bench at lacrosse practice, staring listlessly up at the sky.

     Derek understands what he sees even if he's only seen it once. It's a different thing to see the world at your feet than from within it. It's a grandeur that can't be described. Produces sensations that is difficult to replicate under normal circumstances.

     It was one of these moments of wandering (and occasionally seeing Stiles) that Derek finds the teen sneaking out of his house in the middle of the night. Derek sees the telltale blue police box before he starts seeing red. He rushes towards the teen in claws and snarls, stopping just short of the startled teen who wore wide, surprised, eyes.

     "Derek!" Stiles exclaims.

     "You're not going!" Derek growls, reaching forward to clutch at Stiles' arms with a clawed hand.

     "What're you doing here?" Stiles asks.

     "You're not going." Derek insists more levelly, but the growl is still there. His chest is still rumbling anyway. He wonders if Stiles can hear it.

     "Dude, calm down. What the hell?" Stiles asks, trying to shake off Derek's strong grip.

     "You're not going to disappear again for what? Another two weeks? A month? A year? How can you do this to your father." Is Derek's argument. He's thought about this a lot. He doesn't say what he really wants to say though. He hasn't even said it to himself.

     "Derek..." Stiles says sadly, the guilt apparent in his eyes.

     "Are you insane? That man is dangerous! He..." Derek rants, but is interrupted by a teen rolling his eyes and shoving him away.

     "Like it's not dangerous here." Stiles snipes. Derek doesn't want to admit that he's right. "Besides, it _wasn't_ the Doctor's fault. Circumstances forced him to get the date wrong. But that was a rare circumstance! It'll be like I've only been gone for a couple of hours. I'll be back before my dad even wakes up!"

     "It's dangerous." Derek says evenly, stepping into Stiles' space. But the teen doesn't back down. Instead he puffs up his chest and stares straight into Derek's eyes.

     "It's dangerous anywhere. Besides, I'm more likely to get killed here than I am out there." Stiles says offhandedly. Like he was joking. But the comment made Derek think about the time when Stiles wore white and died with a smile.

     He knew it was here. In this planet. With these people. Derek can't help but wonder if could change it if Stiles _wasn't_ in this planet. With these people. He's silent for a long time. Long enough to put a smile of triumph on Stiles' face with a mixture of mischievousness.

     "Why don't you come with me?" Stiles asks to Derek's surprise. "Big bad wolf, out there in the universe. Come on, Derek. Whatcha waiting for? You thinking about being a spaceman?"

     Derek startles at the question. He doesn't know what to say. But the hand that clasps his own isn't a surprise. It pulls at him. He follows.

     He will always follow.

     All the way to the stars.    

**Author's Note:**

> That was confusing, wasn't it? Er... yeah... it felt like two different stories while I was writing it. Must feel like two different stories while you're reading it. Or am I wrong? 
> 
> Anyway, I still hope it was enjoyable.


End file.
